


A Talk

by kikibug13



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brothers, Dysfunctional Family, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/537019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikibug13/pseuds/kikibug13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim has a little rant regarding Damian... Dick has a few things to say about that, in turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Talk

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a no-reboot universe, past the point where pre-Flashpoint issues leave off (Tim is 21).

Tim watched Damian storm up the stairs towards the manor, then turned to Dick again.

"He couldn't _reach_ her, Tim."

"That's what he says. But maybe he just didn't try, I mean, you saw him walking away all straight and tight-faced as though there was something in his ass. She was a rogue, she could die, right? None of his business? The kid's got it in him, and you know it."

"Tim!" 

The warning in Dick's voice didn't stop him, though, nor the clench he could see of his jaw. Sure, Damian had been doing reasonably well... and yet, there were still nights like this one. Nights where it all came back. "Some things don't make a difference, Dick. I know you're trying, but--."

"Go _change_ , Red Robin."

Tim headed towards the showers automatically, before he even registered that Dick had used the Batman voice he so rarely did. On _him_. Oh, this was just... not fair.

But his older brother wasn't there when he came out. In fact, it took Tim a little while to find him, in the library, with the lights off and a decanter of, if his nose was right, vodka by his elbow and his knees tucked under his chin as he sat on the couch.

"What the..."

Dick didn't look up. Nor even at him when Tim pulled up one of the armchairs across from him and plopped there, brows drawing together. It wasn't like Dick to nearly yell at him, it wasn't like Dick to be quiet, and it sure as hell wasn't like Dick to drink. Like... ever. But he was drinking now.

"Hey, what happened?"

The answer didn't come right away. In fact, Tim almost asked again, before Dick's lips moved, and even more before any sound made it through them. 

"The kid's got it in him. Do you have any idea how many people keep on saying that?"

"Well, it's--"

"Earlier tonight, Damian got a five-year-old out of a burning house. It was almost a hopeless case, the upper floor was collapsing. Damian shielded the boy as one of the beams fell on them - the cape and body armor kept the worst of it off, but his back went black and blue almost immediately, and there was _some_ burn. He refused to come back, after, and that's why we managed to get the drop on the situation you came to and get most of the civilians out."

"Yeah, okay, he's a decent Robin--"

"I _saw_ him reach for her, Tim. He tried, although his back was probably agony. It really happened exactly as he said. That's why he was walking like that. Because he was in pain, has been most of the patrol. And because he tried and he failed."

The moonlight reflected in the blue eyes that finally looked up at Tim, and Tim glared back, though the lump that seemed to be sitting on Dick's throat was starting to move to his, or feel like it, at least.

"So, of course he's got it in him. For most of his life, that was all he was _allowed_ to have in him. But it's been four years, Timmy. Four years in which he's done a damned good job of making sure it stays in. In four years, not once has he killed in self-preservation, in fear, or in carelessness. Nor in anger. The only times he's slipped has been when he was saving somebody's life. Usually Bruce's. No, that doesn't make it better. But it makes a whole lot of a difference when you look at it."

Dick finished his glass and poured himself another. 

"I don't think you should..."

"Doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere, right? Patrol's over, he's in bed, and he sure wouldn't want me to go to him, because that's not how he feels better. I actually still don't know how he does, though that doesn't matter. I'm not..." His free hand rubbed over his face. "I know I can't change what you think about him. Not sure I should, either. But... just, sometimes. A bit of understanding wouldn't hurt, okay?"

"Okay. Look, Dick, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I mean, it's not just you. It's almost everyone, so don't take it on yourself. Sorry I commanded, earlier, that was out of line."

"Whatever. I could use the shower."

"Yeah."

Tim watched him drink a little longer. Then shook his head and took his twenty-one-year-old self to sit by his older brother, leaning against him. He was still shorter than Dick, if not much, so when Dick shifted and draped an arm around him, he could snuggle into his side. But he didn't quite relax until he felt his brother's forehead sink against the side of his head.

At least they weren't fighting because of the brat, anymore. Maybe Dick had a point, hell, he probably did. Maybe he should give the teenager another chance, even, though even Dick didn't deny that there was always a possibility that things would take a turn for the worse.

But that wasn't for tonight. Tonight, he'd helped upset this brother, and he _could_ make it a little better. The rest... he'd figure it out. That was his thing, after all.


End file.
